Page 121 of Crew
That couldn't happen.
I didn't even have him, and I was preparing for when I'd lose him. There was something wrong in that, but I couldn't focus for a moment.
Cross' hand covered mine. "Hey."
I ripped my hand away from his. "Don't!" I hissed.
I gritted my teeth. Shit. There it was. He'd be hurt. He'd be angry. I'd offended him. But I looked up, and nothing like that was there.
Instead, he wore his slight grin, and he pointed to Jordan. "The leader is speaking to you."
"Shut up!" Jordan burst out. "You give me shit, but no one else is stepping up to the plate."
"But how could we?" Cross sat forward, resting his arm on the back of their seat. "You've got all the bases covered. There's no room. And how would we even step up? Mutiny?" Cross hit Zellman's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Would I have to recruit Z here? Maybe bribe him with a hundred bucks?"
"A hundred bucks? I'm more expensive than that." Zellman shook his head.
"A hundred strippers?" Cross asked.
"Yeah." Zellman bobbed his head, laughing. "I'd fold for a hundred strippers. Pussy heaven."
"Hold your tits, Z." Cross grinned.
Zellman tipped his head back, his grin widening. "Hold their tits, you mean?"
Jordan shook his head, grumbling, "You guys are stupid. You give me crap, but I have a role. I fulfill it."
"What role is that?" I asked. "Our mouthpiece?"
"Yeah," he shot back, watching me in the rearview mirror. "I step up. I defend you guys. You all are so damned quiet. Someone has to talk."
Z was still grinning, shaking his head.
"So you fill the silence?" I asked. "That's what you're saying?"
Jordan was half-grinning now too. "I know, I know. You guys step up. If I weren't around, you'd all be just fine, but stop giving me so much crap. I like to take charge. Sue me, but for real--I gotta say something here. You have to know."
Z turned sideways, resting his arm on the back of the seat. "You've been spending a lot of time together, you two."
I glanced at Cross. A foreboding expression pulled down his eyebrows. His mouth was in a flat line.
I nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
Jordan and Zellman shared a look now.
"So this is kind of about Ryerson." Jordan cleared his throat. "I didn't know if I should say anything, but he's dating someone. And--"
"Who?" I asked.
"Who?" Jordan parroted. "You fucking with me now? Race Ryerson. Douchebag's cousin."
"No. No." I waved my hand in the air. "I got confused." I was making a mess of this. I'd been so scared they were talking about Cross and me. He said Race was dating someone. "Who's he dating?"
He adjusted in his seat, sitting up a little straighter. "This is going to be awkward."
"What?" I was lost. "Why?"
Jordan looked from me to Cross in the rearview mirror, grimacing.
